Birds at Wongan Hills
‘Tweet, tweet, you're sweet; you're sweetest of the sweet!”—
Thus Brown-wing would his song of love repeat;
And from the wattle branches’ green retreat
He listened for the shy response—"Tweet, tweet!”
“A nest, a nest, a little, little nest—
The best, the best, the very, very best”—
Their blended song their love of home expressed—
The smallest, greyest home in all the West.
“You sweet, you sweet, you sweetest little things!”
Now Father Brown-wing, now the mother sings,
As each fond parent on untiring wings
To baby-bird some dainty morsel brings.
“Come fly! come fly! ’Tis time you learned to fly.
Come, Baby Brown-wings, spread your wings, and try.
You’ll want to go hunting by-and-bye,
And wheeling round the salmon-gum so high.”
Each wondrous birdling tries the wondrous feat.
Full soon their education is complete.
Brown-wing once more his love-song doth repeat—
“Tweet, tweet, my sweet; you’re sweetest of the sweet!”